


Less is more

by LittleTurtle95



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Character Study, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, M/M, POV Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, POV Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Sappy, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleTurtle95/pseuds/LittleTurtle95
Summary: Nicky always had the gift of honesty, he said things as they were without filter, sometimes being almost crude at it, even violent or obscene. He wasn’t much of a talker, not like Joe was, but every once in a while he said something – a single line, sometimes even a single word – so heavy that left Joe utterly speechless.Or, three times Nicky said something disgustingly romantic to Joe without realising it.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 131
Kudos: 1820





	Less is more

**Author's Note:**

> NICKY👏🏻 LOVES👏🏻 JOE👏🏻AS👏🏻MUCH👏🏻AS👏🏻JOE👏🏻 LOVES👏🏻NICKY👏🏻LET👏🏻NICKY👏🏻BE👏🏻SAPPY👏🏻LET👏🏻JOE👏🏻FEEL👏🏻 LOVED👏🏻
> 
> I understand yall, really, I was there when Joe did his speech in the van, but Nicolò “I Met The Love Of My Life” di Genova didn’t say “we were meant to find eachother” in canon only for you to let him look like the less caring and romantic in the relationship. Also, my baby Yusuf needs some praising once in a while and I will die on this hill.
> 
> Rated T because there's a naked Nicky in the first bit but it's like reaaaally light. Nothing obscene I swear.

**1.**

They had been travelling together for a little more than a century after the first few decades they spent desperately trying to kill one another. They were staying in Tunis, a town that had been freshly made capital and was just as tumultuous as they liked. 

Nicolò was sitting down with his legs crossed on the floor of their safe house, naked like he usually was when he stayed inside, still not used to the warm Maghrebi weather, enjoying the sensation of the smooth carpet pressed to his skin.

Yusuf came back from the market as he always did at his time of day, and like every other time he stopped mid way, staring at his naked figure like it was the very first time he saw it. Nicolò found immense grace thinking at the way Yusuf seemed to never tire to see him like this.

Nicolò looked up to him and smiled, greeting him and patting with his hand on the carpet in a silent invitation.

Yusuf dropped the sack with the food he just bought like it had no worth, too busy at being drunk on him already, and obliged instantly sitting next to him with his back leaning on the wall, his hand resting on Nicolò’s tight, Nicolò’s skin burning at the touch. 

“Hey,” Yusuf said, giving him a soft peck on his temple.

Nicolò didn’t say anything back, he just nuzzled closer and hid his face in the crook of Yusuf’s neck, breathing his scent.

“Qalbi,” _my heart,_ Yusuf whispered, “you’re being too quiet. What is it?”

“I missed you,” Nicolò sighed, giving him a small bite on his shoulder. Yusuf’s hand brushed higher along his tight, sending Nicolò’s senses on fire.

Yusuf laughed, that kind of laugh that sounded like a bark and looked bright like the sun, and always managed to make Nicolò’s heart grow two size bigger. “We’ve been together the whole day, I was out only for an hour, maybe less.”

Nicolò shrugged. “When you and I are in the same place at the same time I’m happy. Every time you go away, I mourn.”

He felt Yusuf tense, their bodies pressed close, and immediately leaned back. “What is it? Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Yusuf laughed again, this time Nicolò couldn’t appreciate it because he was starting to worry. The man looked at him and his lips curled up in the brightest smile. He pushed a lock of blonde hair off Nicolò’s brow. “And you say you’re not good with words.”

“I’m not. I just said the truth, that’s all.”

“May you never change, hayati,” _my life,_ Yusuf said, his hand moving even higher. Nicolò closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the sensation. “May you never change.”

**2.**

Joe was waiting in their safe house in Paris for Andy and Nicky to come back with the new guy. Another warrior, a soldier, just like any of them. He didn’t know why it happened only to fighters, maybe the world needed them, maybe it was a curse to let them pay for all the lives they took, maybe it was an absurd coincidence, maybe all of this was just a big fat joke.

His name was Sébastien, he had a wife and three children. From what they saw in their dreams of him during the time it took to go from India to France to pick him up it was clear that he wasn’t taking this immortality thing too well.

The door slammed open and the man he already knew from his restless nights stumbled in the room, and it was so clear he was terrified that Joe felt the sudden urge to tell him everything was going to be okay. 

Andy and Nicky followed him close behind, and Joe’s eyes looked for Nicky’s immediately, like every other time he entered in a room. Nicky was looking back at him, like he always was. They had a sort of gravity always pulling their strings and bringing them back to each other, pure magnetism.

“Je n’en reviens pas!” the man – Sébastien – hissed, his voice hoarse. “Pourquoi moi? Qu’ai-je fais de mal?” _I can’t believe it! Why me? What did I do wrong?_

“We don’t know,” Andy said, her voice unusually soft. “We don’t know why it happens. I’m sorry.”

Joe frowned. The guy really had it bad, otherwise Andy would never bother with such patience with a newbie. 

More than everything it was the worried look on Nicky’s face that gave out how serious the situation was. After seven hundred years Joe understood almost every emotion or thought that passed through his lover’s face, as loud as if he had spoken. 

What Nicky was radiating right now was a mix of resignation, sorrow, worry, compassion and a very dangerous lack of optimism.

Sébastien sighed and finally noticed him as well, raising one of his brows as he stared in suspicion. 

“Who’s this man?” he asked sharply with a strong accent, but still the words were clear. “Another one?”

Nicky opened his mouth to answer, and yes, Joe knew him almost as well as he knew himself. He could almost always predict what he was going to say.

That was not one of those times. 

Joe looked back at him briefly, waiting for him to say something like _yes, he’s one of us_ , or _this is Joe,_ maybe even _he’s with me,_ but definitely nothing more.

The last thing Joe was expecting was what actually came out of Nicky’s mouth. 

“He’s Joe. He’s the love of my life.”

He said like it was the most natural answer to that question, like it was just the plain truth, nothing less, nothing more than that. Nicky always had the gift of honesty, he said things as they were without filter, sometimes being almost crude at it, even violent or obscene. He wasn’t much of a talker, not like Joe was, but every once in a while he said something – a single line, sometimes even a single word – so heavy that left Joe utterly speechless.

Sébastien made a face and looked at Nicky like he’d grown a second head. He looked back at Joe, then at Nicky again. 

For one moment Joe feared he was going to say something rude, offensive, even humiliating, it wasn’t the best of time for people like them to be out in the open, but the newbie surprised him.

Sébastien shrugged his shoulders and sat down next to him, his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his hands. He huffed and asked him “Do any of you losers have something to drink?”

**3.**

Nicky opened his eyes and sighed in contentment, nuzzling closer to the man pressed behind him, Joe’s firm grip steady on his hip, his other arm under Nicky’s head, his pillow for the night. 

It was a lazy morning of June and they were in their safe house in Sorrento, a place they had always loved that didn’t have the chance to visit often, in the south of Italy. He looked out of the window, the curtains waving slightly for the breeze coming from the sea. Judging by how high the sun already was Nicky was sure they had overslept, but he couldn’t care less. 

It was rare for them to have a break long enough between missions to have an actual holiday all by themselves, and every time it happened they liked to drown themselves in the feeling of it, of having everything they ever needed, all the time in the world and nothing else. 

He felt Joe’s sleepy groan and turned, shifting in his arms, because he didn’t want to miss the moment he was going to open his eyes. It was one of his favourite moments of the day, it felt like watching him coming back to life once again, only without the dread and the weight in his chest that he felt every time Joe’s heart stopped.

He looked at him intently wishing that, among all the things they shared, his lover’s talent at drawing was yet another thing they had in common. Nicky had never been much of an artist, and all the thousands of moments like this, moments that Joe would have brought to life immediately only with carbon and a piece of paper, had to get lost forever if not carved in his heart, for no other to see. 

Joe scrunched his nose and frowned, still half asleep, always the slowest to wake up fully in the morning, and when he finally opened his eyes Nicky saw the flash of joy in them, for him being the first thing he saw.

“Good morning,” the man whispered, pressing his lips to Nicky’s forehead.

“Good morning yourself,” he said, brushing his fingertips all the way from Joe’s shoulder to his neck, placing his hand firmly on his jaw. He kept looking at him only because he both could and wanted to, there was no mission to rush to, no other people in the room. He let his gaze linger on all the details on his lover’s face and smiled. 

“What is it?” Joe asked, his lips half curved up in a curious smile. “Do I have something on my face? Is it the bed hair? Do I look like a fool, what is it?”

Nicky had never been a poet, that was Joe’s skill, not his. He couldn’t talk for hours about the softness of his skin, the light in his eyes or the thunder raging in his heart every time they touched even for a moment. The only thing Nicky had ever been able to offer was exactly what he thought, exactly how he thought it. No more, no less. 

So he did it, he said exactly what he was thinking, exactly how he was thinking it. 

“No. Solo che… non ho mai visto niente di più bello in vita mia.” _No. It’s just… I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in all my life._

Joe’s eyes widened for a moment and his breath hitched like Nicky had just slapped him. “I… you… you can’t just say things like that when I’m still waking up. You’re seriously going to kill me!”

“So what?” Nicky asked, a mischievous smile on his lips. “You’ll come back eventually. You always do.”

“You’re right, I always do. And I always will, as long as you’ll be waiting for me, my love.”

Nicky was no poet. He was no artist, no musician. But one thing he always did, was to find ways to make his love feel loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay my headcanon based on what I saw in the movie (I didn’t read the comics) is that while Joe could vax for hours about Nicky’s stormy eyes and his touch that could burn entire cities and blah blah (I love it don't get me wrong but that's not the point) Nicky is not so eloquent and doesn't feel the need to talk a lot about this kind of things, but he loves Joe very much and he's really open and honest with his feelings so sometimes he just says out loud what he's thinking like it's not a big deal and Joe freezes and like swoons for weeks just thinking about it.
> 
> What do you think?


End file.
